My name is Amber. My husband, Sid, dresses me for the evening. It's one way he pushes my limits. Tonight is especially difficult. He has outfitted me in a tiny black dress, which stretches the barest amount over the cheeks of my little ass. Even worse, it plunges in the front...a lot. I can't take a step without worrying that I will expose my nipples. And sometimes it does. I am constantly adjusting, but I can't pull the dress up too far. Sid has denied me panties, so I have to be careful. Honestly, I am so wet.
He guides me to a downtown bar. After a martini, I begin to relax. He knows me, and he knows where this will lead. After another drink, I unclench. I stop fighting the dress. I stop worrying. I am in good hands. When I look down, one hard little nipple is just about to escape my dress. I just don't care anymore. This is up to Sid now. We are sitting at a high table, against a window facing the street. We talk about cooking, about the lake, about fucking. Sid scans the room, silent for a moment, and then asks me if I could pick anyone in the room, who would I choose to fuck. My eyes drop, but just for a moment. Looking around, I settle first on a tipsy sorority girl in a tight pink dress, but think better of it. I continue to survey the crowd. With Sid, questions like this are never an idle exercise. Sex, at least good sex, requires experience. If I am really getting to choose, which I am not sure yet that I am, I need to choose wisely. And I know I want a girl. I want to taste her. I want to bury myself between her legs. I want to feel her convulse on my tongue. I want to hear her moan, I want to feel her thighs tense against my cheeks, I want to feel her hand wrap itself in my hair, pulling me deeper into her. I want to slide my tongue inside her as she orgasms, giving a center to her spasms, punishing her for giving in so quickly, coaxing another out of her as I bite down on her clit. I want...
I want the woman in the blue dress. Full, soft breasts. Lightly tanned. She seems free, uninhibited. Slim. Interesting...older than me. I think about it carefully, and sort through the bar one more time. But no, it's her. I well up my courage, and I ask Sid for her. He smiles, almost grins. I don't notice why until he explains. My nipples
protrude entirely through the thin fabric of my dress. I haven't been very subtle about things. Sid leans back, and demands an explanation. I describe her charms, and try to explain my desire. I'm not sure what he will do, but he seems interested. I put that wrong- he seems inclined to indulge me. Sid nurses his beer for another moment. Then he goes and gets me what I want.
I don't know how, though. She is sitting with a man, close enough that they are clearly together. Sid walks up uninvited and begins some conversation I can't hear. It lasts one, two, ten minutes. I am so nervous. I am frozen. My martini lays untouched, though my pussy wells with excitement. A napkin on my lap, I slowly work a hand up my thigh. Watching Sid have his conversation, I quietly play with my clit, carefully keeping my back straight and my breath steady. Sid makes the woman in the blue dress laugh, and I almost cum watching her tits jiggle. Her man says nothing. Sid dominates the conversation. She leans forward, pushing her hair out of her face, arching her back, showing off her body. Sid leans into her ear. She nods assent.